


For All Sad Words

by Elisara



Series: What Might Have Been [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Child Abuse, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-24
Updated: 2012-08-24
Packaged: 2017-11-12 19:36:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/494914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisara/pseuds/Elisara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is used to his dad bringing home kids who have been removed from domestic violence situations. He just never expected any of them to be someone he knows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For All Sad Words

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a prompt from Pilgrimkitty on Tumblr. Original prompt was "Isaac gets yanked out of his father’s house (pre or post werewolf bite) and with a lack of available foster homes in Beacon Hills, stays with the Stilinskis for a while." Thank you to steinsgrrl for the beta.

**~~ For all sad words of tongue and pen, the saddest are these, "It might have been." ~~**

**\- John Greenleaf Whittier**

He's twelve years old the night the door opens and his father walks in trailed by a skinny, pale kid sporting tow-headed curls. Stiles is surprised - not by the fact that his father has brought home a child; that happened often enough that there was an entire section of the linen closet reserved for the air mattress and the sheets that fit it, and a handful of unwrapped toothbrushes in the bathroom - but by the fact that this time it was someone he knew.

"Stiles." His father's voice pulls Stiles' attention away from the boy. "This is Isaac. He's going to be staying with us for a few days. Maybe you know each other?"

Stiles nods, looking back at Isaac and doing his best to ignore the darkening bruise that is coloring almost half of the small face looking back at him. "Yeah. You're in Coach Parson's social studies class with me, right?"

Isaac shrugs, then nods slightly. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Good." His father's voice is just an edge too enthusiastic, as though attempting to make up for the lack of the same in Isaac's reply. "Isaac, have you eaten dinner yet?"

Isaac turns to the sheriff with a lost, humiliated look on his face. "Dad said I can't have dinner tonight. I failed my science test. I have to study instead of wasting my time at the table."

Stiles barely keeps his jaw from dropping and his eyes fly to his father. The fury that passes over the sheriff's face is fleeting, but Stiles can tell from the way Isaac cringes that the other boy has seen it, too. 

"I-it's okay," Isaac stutters. "I wasn't really hungry anyway."

John Stilinski draws a deep breath and blows it out. "Stiles, why don't you fix a couple of Hot Pockets for you and Isaac, while I inflate the mattress."

"But, I... I'm not supposed to -"

"Nah, dude, it's okay," Stiles breaks in. "You don't have your science book here anyway, so you can't study. Might as well eat." He turns to his dad. "Can we have ice cream, too? I didn't have any yet, and it was kind of hot today, so ice cream would cool our body temperatures. Then you won't have to turn on the air conditioner. We could just open the windows. Save electricity _and_ the environment!" 

John gives a huff of amusement. "Fine. One scoop, and _after_ the Hot Pockets, okay?"

"Awesome!" Stiles says, punching the air. He grabs Isaac by the wrist and tugs him toward the kitchen. "What kind of Hot Pocket do you want? We have ham and cheese or we have pepperoni pizza."

Isaac follows along, not knowing what else to do, eyes wide and still a little frightened. 

"My dad likes the ham and cheese ones best," Stiles continues, filling up the silence with chatter. "But I think the pepperoni ones are so much better. The cheese just tastes better, and if you get it at the perfect temperature, it's not too hot to eat, but the cheese still pulls out in these long strings that stretch and stretch 'til they snap. It's cool." He opens the freezer and starts digging in boxes. "So which kind do you want?"

"I don't know," Isaac says, voice faint and bewildered.

"Well," Stiles says, popping back out with his arms full of cellophane-wrapped bundles. "Why don't you try both of them, then you can decide which one you like best!" He grabs two plates out of the cabinet at his head and starts unwrapping the pastries, tucking them into their microwave sleeves. As he works, he continues peppering Isaac with words.

"Is milk okay to drink? We have that or water. My dad won't buy sodas because he says caffeine and sugar are the last things I need. I try to tell him that there are sodas with no sugar and no caffeine, but he just says that if there's no sugar and no caffeine, I might as well drink water, so he won't buy those either."

"Ice cream has sugar," Isaac ventures, a small frown of confusion wrinkling his forehead. 

"Exactly!" Stiles says, beaming a smile at his companion. "And he buys ice cream, so why not soda?"

"Because ice cream at least has calcium in it," John says as he walks into the room. "Soda has no redeeming value whatsoever."

Stiles grimaces at his father. "Details, details."

John shrugs negligently as he pulls out a chair at the table and drops into it. "Well, I could just stop buying the ice cream, too."

"No, no," Stiles says quickly as he carries the plates to the table. "I'm good with the calcium. Strong bones and all that. Speaking of calcium," he turns to Isaac. "Milk?"

Isaac just nods, looking down at the steaming pastries before him as though they're alien objects that he's not sure what to do with.

"Give them just a minute to cool down," Stiles says, setting a glass of milk on the table. "Otherwise they'll burn your mouth. But don't wait too long, because then they'll get cold, and they're not really good cold, because the cheese doesn't stretch anymore."

"I don't think stretchy cheese is really the most important thing tonight, Stiles," John says, trying to hide his smile, but failing.

"Are you kidding?" Stiles looks at his father in over-acted horror. "The stretchy cheese is the best part of a Hot Pocket! That's what makes Hot Pockets even worth eating!"

John shakes his head. "Then sit down and eat them before the cheese isn't stretchy anymore."

Stiles grins and takes a bite of his pastry, breathing through his mouth when he discovers it's still a little too hot. "Careful," he says, looking over at Isaac and nodding at the plate. "It's still a little warm."

Isaac hesitantly reaches out for one of the pastries and takes a bite, his eyes going wide when the cheese inside stretches out in a long string as he pulls his hand away. It gets longer and longer, and Stiles is actually cheering when the string snaps, leaving Isaac with around three inches of mozzarella hanging from his mouth. 

"Dude, that was excellent!" Stiles says with a laugh. "Didn't I tell you it was awesome?" He feels an extra little bubble of happiness when Isaac swallows the cheese and gives him a small smile in return.

When the makeshift dinner and ice cream has been consumed, Stiles dumps the dishes in the sink and grabs Isaac's wrist again, tugging him toward the stairs and grabbing the small overnight bag that had been left at the foot. "Isaac is staying in my room, right?" he asks his father as he walks.

"Yes," comes the answer that follows him up the stairs. "Don't forget to brush your teeth."

Stiles gives Isaac an exaggerated eye-roll. "One measly cavity, and he thinks he has to remind me every night. I always remember to brush my teeth, but he always thinks I'm going to forget." He digs in the drawer and hands Isaac one of the still-wrapped toothbrushes. 

After their teeth are properly brushed, he leaves Isaac in the bathroom to change into pajamas, while he does the same in his own room. It takes longer than he expects it to, and when Isaac walks out, he's wearing long-sleeved flannel pajamas. "Dude, you're going to be really hot in those. You want to borrow one of my shirts or something?"

Isaac shakes his head, tugging the sleeves down further over his wrists. "It's fine. I get cold at night."

Stiles frowns, but doesn't know how to argue with that, so he lets it go. "Okay. Well, if you change your mind, just let me know." He waits until Isaac is curled up on the mattress before flipping off the light switch and bouncing onto his bed. He wants to talk, to see if he can get Isaac to laugh a little, but he can't think of anything to say that might work. He tosses and turns on the bed, restless, and thinks that he's probably going to be up half the night, but before long his brain finally starts to shut down and he sinks into sleep.

It's late when he wakes, the glowing red numbers on his digital clock flicking from 2:43 to 2:44 as he blinks at it sleepily, wondering what pulled him from slumber. It's not until the faint whimper comes again that he realizes it's Isaac and that Isaac is in the middle of what sounds like a pretty bad nightmare.

"Isaac?" He waits, but the whimper comes again, a little louder, and from the faint light of the moon streaming in his window, he can see the other boy trembling under the blanket. He sits up and leans down to shake Isaac's shoulder. "Hey, man, wake up. It's okay. It's just a dream."

Isaac gasps, flails, and almost frantically claws his way over the edge of the mattress before fully waking from the nightmare. Stiles frowns, worried at the way Isaac seems to be struggling for air for a few seconds. Then suddenly Isaac seems to simply collapse into himself, curling into a ball with his face hidden behind his knees. A small, choked-off sob is muffled by the pajamas, but not enough that Stiles can't hear it, and it makes his chest ache in a bad way, like when he sees something that reminds him of his mother.

He slips from the bed and crawls across the mattress to sit beside Isaac and wrap him in half a hug. "It's okay," he whispers. "It was just a bad dream. It's okay now."

Isaac shakes his head, but uncurls enough to press his face into Stiles' shoulder. "Not okay," he says, voice sounding rough and full of tears. "Never be okay again."

Stiles doesn't know what to say to that, so he just holds Isaac a little tighter and rocks slowly. Eventually, the adrenaline fades from them both and the late hour catches up with them. Without really thinking about it, Stiles stretches out on the air mattress and pulls Isaac down with him, wrapping around him like Stiles' mother used to do when Stiles had a nightmare and ran to her room. He pets a hand over Isaac's curls and feels Isaac give a shuddering sigh. Within minutes he's asleep once again.

By the morning light, Stiles knows Isaac is embarrassed by what happened in the night. Isaac won't look at him. He barely speaks two words as they eat breakfast and Stiles' father drives them to school. During school, he hardly sees Isaac, and in social studies, Isaac intentionally sits as far away from Stiles as he can. Stiles sighs in frustration, but he doesn't know what else to do. He thinks that maybe he and Isaac can talk after school. He thinks maybe he can tell Isaac about his mother and how she used to make him feel better when he had nightmares. However, when they get to the house after walking from the corner where the school bus drops them off, he finds his father waiting with an unhappy face and the news that Isaac is going home.

He thinks about Isaac every now and then, and about that night, but it will be a number of years before he gets the chance to talk to Isaac again. When he does, the conversation is nothing like he had once planned. Nothing at all.


End file.
